


tell me somethin' new

by werebothstubborn



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Ice Skating, M/M, Sad Phil, Sexual References, Sports Injury, competitive dan, there's a lot of backstory, this wasn't my intention, this whole thing is like three times longer than i thought it would be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 08:09:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17300981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werebothstubborn/pseuds/werebothstubborn
Summary: dan's kind of regretting throwing away his friday night to have a skate-off with the guy who insulted him earlier today, but maybe it won't be as bad as he thinks.or the one where dan howell is a little hot-headed and accidentally challenges former ice-skating champion, phil lester, to an after-hours skating competition.





	tell me somethin' new

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amczingphil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amczingphil/gifts).



> special thanks to katie and tash for continuing to beta this even after i argued against almost every suggestion they made. to quote myself, "i'm sorry for being a stubborn gay bitch."
> 
> this was written for the jolly friends and dickmates winter secret santa gift exchange. happy christmas/new year/random friday in january, ellen!

Dan is, decidedly, a dumbass, though he has yet to realize it. He slumps forward, eyes dropping down to where the laces on his skates hang limply at the sides. He glares at them. It’s not their fault that he’s here at an ice rink, after hours on a Friday night. They weren’t the ones who declared that Dan could outskate the cute ice rink owner, Phil, in a fit of half-flirting, half-frustrated hubris, after all. No, Dan did that just fine on his own, but he needs to take his irritation out on something, and the laces happen to be right here.

It hadn’t been on purpose, of course. He hadn’t stepped onto the rink earlier today with the _intention_ of challenging a complete stranger to an after-hours skating competition. 

Dan sighs and combs his fingers through his hair. This was a mistake. He could have actually had a fun night, could have gone out to a couple local bars to find a hook-up, but there’s not much he can do about it now. He’s already here, and he’s not about to forfeit when he knows he can win. With a sigh, he reaches down and begins tying up his laces. Might as well get it over with. At least this Phil guy is hot.

Planting the blades of his skates into the ground as firmly as he can, Dan pushes himself up off the bench, but it does little to stop him wobbling the moment he adds his weight into the mix. His ankles buckle and he finds himself reaching out to grab onto the nearest support. He just manages to wrap his arms around the nearest bench in an attempt to hold himself up before he finds himself in a heap of his own limbs on the floor. 

Groaning, he presses his forehead against the seat top. It’s made of metal and cool from the chilly air, and it helps to temper his rapidly warming face. Fuck ice skates. He never really has much of a problem with them when he’s on the ice, but he can’t walk for shit in them when he’s on solid ground. He’ll have to learn pretty quickly if he doesn’t want to fall flat on his face in front of Phil, though. 

Using the arms he’s already wrapped around the bench, Dan pulls himself back to his feet. This time, he positions himself closer to the wall. As long as there’s something for him to lean on if he needs to, Dan should be able to make it all the way to the rink without incident. He just needs to spend less time _thinking_ about what he’s doing. 

Somehow he manages it. 

Phil is already on the ice by the time Dan makes it out to the gate. He’s gliding across the ice in figure eights, his long legs clad in tight black leggings, and Dan’s half-tempted to just stay quiet and hide behind the barrier so he can keep watching. It doesn’t really seem like Phil would notice Dan if he _doesn’t_ make his presence known - he appears to be lost in his own world, his entire body swaying to the rhythm of a song that isn’t actually there. 

Actually, he appears to be dancing - properly dancing - on the ice right now. His arms come up to circle over his head, fingers locked tightly together, and he bends at the knees, tucking in to begin spinning in a tight circle on the spot. The sharp blades of the skates grind against the ice, cutting through the air like a siren, but all Dan can focus on are Phil’s legs. He seems to be winding himself up, although for what exactly Dan isn’t quite sure. 

The answer, it turns out, is nothing. But Phil isn’t done yet. He plants his toe into the ice to stop himself from spinning and immediately begins gliding backwards across the smooth surface. He draws his right leg back, allowing the left one to continue to carry him over the ice as he gears up for something Dan’s not sure he’s ready for himself. Dan can feel his heartbeat in his ears as Phil drags his right skate forward to plant the toe in the ice and propel himself off the ground.

It isn’t until this moment that he realizes Phil must know twice as much about skating as Dan does himself. So what if Phil falls flat on his arse the moment his skates touch the ice again? Dan knows that he’s not a bad skater, but he definitely doesn’t know how to skate quite like _that_. Regardless of whether or not Phil can land his jumps, he can still do more than Dan will ever be able to. Maybe this was a bad idea. Dan’s throat closes tightly as he watches Phil reach behind himself to press a hand to his lower back. The wince is visible even from here. 

Phil pushes himself to his feet and brushes the ice shavings off of his arse, and Dan doesn’t know whether to keep watching or to pretend he hadn’t seen the fall to begin with.

It seems he doesn’t even need to make the decision. Before he can even think about it, Phil’s calling out from the middle of the ice. 

“I thought you wanted to skate.” He fixes his gaze just to the left of Dan, eyes rimmed with just a tinge of red. 

Dan takes a deep breath and then steps through the gate and out onto the ice. As soon as his skates touch the new surface, a calm washes over him. He begins gliding towards the center of the rink where Phil is, the blades cutting smoothly through the clean ice. It feels familiar, comforting in the same way it feels to walk through the front door of his flat after a long day. Phil meets Dan’s gaze, crosses his arms as Dan digs his toe into the ice to come to a halt right in front of him. 

“Sorry, I - erm - I saw you out on the ice and I didn’t want to interrupt,” Dan says.

“I saw you come out of the changing rooms.” Phil’s turned his attention to his fingernails, and Dan wonders if he and his big mouth have already ruined any prospects for a friendly flirtationship.

“Oh yeah, I was, uh, re-tying my laces,” he says lamely.

“Cool.”

The question _are you okay_ sits on the tip of Dan’s tongue, but instead he blurts out, “So what, were you trying to show off for me or…?”

Phil rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath, and begins skating away. Dan watches, unsure of whether he should follow after him or just turn around leave before his shoves his foot even further in his mouth.

“Are you coming?”

Once again, it seems as though Phil is making all of Dan’s decisions for him tonight. Maybe he doesn’t mind as much as he should.

"Yes, sir," he grumbles. When he starts towards Phil, he goes slowly, opting for long, smooth strides over the short, choppy ones that would get him there faster. He comes to a stop about two metres away and clears his throat. "Okay. So tell me how I have to kick your ass."

Phil huffs. "Three trials. One timed lap around the rink, seven figure-eights, one triple lux. Loser has to pay for drinks afterwards.”

Dan gulps. He has no idea how to do a triple lux, but maybe if Phil goes before him, he can just wing it and try to mimic what he does.

“Do we have a deal?” Phil says.

“You know,” Dan starts against his better judgment, lips turning up at one corner into a crooked smirk, “you don’t have to go through all of this just to take me out for a drink. Hell, I’d fall right into your bed if you smiled at me.” He’d probably fall right into Phil’s bed without the smile, even. Although, considering that Phil hasn’t so much as smirked since the moment they met, Dan’s definitely itching to get at least one out of him before the night is over.

“You were the one who called for a skate-off.” Phil’s voice is flat and low, his eyes once again searching for anything to look at besides Dan. His cheeks are tinged pink, but as much as Dan would like to take credit for that himself, he’s pretty sure it’s because Phil’s been stood out on this ice for a while. It is rather nipply out here. Perhaps that’s why Dan loses the ability to bite his tongue every time he’s out on this ice. All his blood is trying to circulate towards his head.

“I only called for a skate-off in the first place because _you_ seem to think I’m incapable of teaching my niece how to skate.”

Phil eyes him suspiciously. “That was your niece?”

“Well yeah,” Dan scoffs. “I promised her I’d take her skating this year. She’s never been before and this place had the best reviews. Obviously none of the reviewers took hospitality into account.”

Phil freezes, his jaw dropping and his eyes narrowing into slits. “Well _maybe_ -” he growls, pausing to let a deep breath pass in and out of his lips. Any fight he has in him seems to dissipate as he exhales. He closes his mouth slowly. “Look. You were distributing your weight all wrong. I know it probably feels more comfortable balance-wise when you angle your skates outward, but it leaves you more susceptible to injuries. I just thought that if you were trying to teach a kid how to skate - which you were - you should at least do it right.”

Dan’s ears grow hot at the insinuation that he’s unfit to teach Maggie how to skate. He scowls at the thick layer of ice beneath his feet. “Oh yeah? Well who crowned you king of the fucking ice rink?”

“The deed to this place,” Phil says flatly. There’s a beat of silence and then he lets out a long sigh, causing Dan’s eyes to flit up. Phil’s eyes are squeezed tightly shut, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “ _Fuck_ ,” he bursts out finally. “Okay, I’m sorry. You’re not like. A bad skater. I think you already know that.”

Dan can feel the tension beginning to seep out of his shoulders just from this half-compliment, and he kind of hates himself for it. “But?” 

“But there’s something I want to show you. C’mon.” The ice grinds beneath Phil skates as he starts making his way towards the main gate.

“Is it your cock?” Dan calls after him. He can see the eye roll from here. “I thought we were going to skate?” 

“Raincheck?” Phil looks down at his skates. “I, erm, assume you saw me fall earlier?”

Dan nods despite the guilt crawling up to expand in his throat. He swallows it down. “Yeah, I did. But, uh, I mean to your credit, I wouldn’t even attempt whatever jump that was you did.”

Phil looks up, laughs humourlessly. “A triple lutz. They used to be my specialty. Anyway, It turns out that I’m also pretty shit at distributing my weight. I am now, at least. I, uh, strained my knee on that jump, so I should probably get out of these skates and try _not_ to fuck it up any more.” Shaking his head, he turns and takes his first step off the ice. 

“Specialty?” Dan murmurs to himself. Phil used to have an ice skating _specialty_. One that involved actually jumping off the ice. It’s only a moment later that he registers the second thing Phil just said. “Wait!” he calls out, skating towards the gate he entered the rink at - the one Phil’s just used to step off the ice. He slows down as he approaches the wall. “Are you hurt?”

With a small, sad smile, Phil turns back to look at him. “Nothing a little ice won’t fix.” He sits down on the bench beside gate while Dan uses the wall as a support to help himself off the ice. 

Dan sits down on the opposite bench as Phil begins untying his laces. He won’t say it out loud, but Dan is glad for the excuse to take his skates off instead of walking back to the changing rooms in them. If Phil can take his off out here, then Dan will just do the same. He reaches down, tugs at his laces until they loosen. It’s always ten times harder to get the skates off than it is to put them on, so he gets to work, trying to wiggle them off of his feet one at a time.

He isn’t having much luck. Phil’s are already lying on the floor next to his feet, just another testament to how foolish Dan had been to challenge him in the first place. He got lucky with Phil’s forfeit, although from his view of the way Phil’s currently hunched over and massaging his knee with the palm of his hand, Dan doesn’t actually feel all too great about it. 

Phil looks up at Dan from beneath his lashes. “Need some help?”

Dan nods silently and sticks his foot out to make it more accessible to Phil, but Phil just drops down to press his good knee into the floor.

“Bit too soon for a proposal, don’t you think?” Dan teases as Phil fiddles with the laces to loosen them up a bit more. 

“You know, I could just let you keep these on and laugh as you stumble around in them.”

“Philip,” Dan gasps, “were you _watching_ me? I knew it. I’m irresistible, aren’t I?” He winks.

“Embarrassingly comedic is more like it,” Phil mutters, although his cheeks have gone pink again. He tugs on the heel of Dan’s boot and it gives up its tight grip on his foot. “Okay, now point your toes.” Dan does as he’s told, and the skate slips easily off of his foot. Phil sets it on the floor like he’d done with his own.

Dan whistles. “Wow. Do you do this kind of thing often? For the record, when I say ‘this kind of thing’ I mean ‘help guys who really want to bang you undress from their skates.’”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Do you have an off switch?”

Dan reaches behind himself with a smirk. “Yeah,” he says, pointing to his bum, “it’s right around here.”

“Jesus Christ,” Phil mutters as he starts working on the second boot. “Something tells me that only winds you up more.” He tugs the skate over Dan’s foot and sets it on the floor next to the first. “Now come on. I need to go get some ice on my knee and wrap it up.”

Dan watches as he uses his hands to push himself up off the ground, careful not to jostle his right knee in any way. Following suit, Dan picks his skates up off the ground and grabs Phil’s also. “I know you’re going to turn me down,” he says, “but you’re welcome to use me as support if you need to hobble.”

To Dan’s surprise, Phil slings an arm around his shoulder without a word.

“Oh,” Dan breathes. He shuffles the pair of skates in his right hand to under his left arm, slipping his now free hand around to grip Phil’s waist. “Is this, erm, is this okay?” he says quietly.

“Yeah.”

They make their way slowly and wordlessly, the newly shared intimate space drawing even Dan into a precarious silence. He’s afraid that if he opens his mouth, this bubble that they’ve built around themselves will burst. His heart thumping against his ribcage is the only thing tethering him to reality right now. Each beat feels like there’s a bird trapped in his chest, flapping its wings relentlessly in the hopes that enough friction will set it free. 

Luckily, Phil’s office isn’t too far away. There’s a hallway just after the changing room entrance, and all the way at the left on the end is the office.

When they reach it, Phil pushes the door open and flicks on the light. “You can have a seat,” he says, pointing to the armchair near the far wall. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Dan watches warily as he hobbles towards his desk on his own. It’s only when Phil makes it to his desk chair without incident that Dan lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. He strolls over to the armchair and plops himself down on it. 

With Phil busy rummaging around in something beneath his desk, Dan is free to look around his office. He hasn’t thought about it enough to have any real expectations, but for some reason he finds the orderliness of the room surprising. Phil’s sat at a large mahogany desk in the corner opposite Dan. It has a computer with two monitors, a picture frame, a coffee mug, a pair of glasses, and what appears to be a page from a newspaper on it, but otherwise, it’s bare. A couple filing cabinets line the wall opposite the desk, but they too have nothing on them. It’s very...plain. 

In fact, the only real decoration he can spot in the whole room is a staggered row of shelves built into the wall next to Phil’s desk. On each of them is a collection of trophies, medals hung neatly around their necks. Dan probably wouldn’t have even noticed them if he hadn’t a glimpse of a glare reflecting off their surface.

“That’s a lot of trophies,” he says, finally breaking the silence. “So you’re an ice skater? Like competitively?”

Phil looks up from the ace bandage he’s been steadily winding around his knee while Dan’s been distracted. “Was.” His voice cracks. “I was a competitive ice skater.” He opens his mouth as if he wants to say more, but then closes it abruptly.

Dan doesn’t know how much more he should push, but he’s willing to test the waters if it means getting to know this man a little bit more. “It looks like you were a pretty damn good one,” he prompts, nodding to the shelves.

“Erm…” Phil turns his attention back to his knee so he can finish wrapping it up. “Yeah, I was alright.” His voice shakes. “I was better than alright, actually. I was on the track to the Olympics, but then I made a rookie mistake and...well, long story short, I tore my ACL.”

Dan sucks in a breath. “Oh my God,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry.” He doesn’t know what all a torn ACL entails, but he knows that it’s ruined careers for a lot of unlucky athletes. And if Phil is here instead of out on the ice, Dan’s pretty sure that he was one of the unlucky ones.

“Me too,” Phil whispers. “Me too.” He shakes his head and turns to tuck the end of his bandage beneath another layer, clipping it in place. With a sigh, he looks back up at Dan. “I was trying to do a triple lutz when you came out to the rink earlier. Just to see if I could do it. I mean, the doctor told me when I came out of surgery that I’d never be able to skate competitively again. I think a part of me has always held out hope that I’d be able to land jumps eventually, though.”

Dan nods. He knows what that feels like. He knows how it feels to chase after something even when the odds are against you. “So what did you do? After they told you you wouldn’t be able to compete again?”

“I, uh-” Phil laughs darkly.“I did a lot of moping for about a year. And then I signed on to be a coach to some younger skaters for a couple years. But I found out _that_ just wasn’t a good fit for me. It was just this painful reminder of everything that I’d had to leave behind.” He presses his palm into his knee and looks up towards the ceiling, letting out a long sigh. “So as soon as my contracts ended, I moved out here and used some of the money I’d saved up to buy this place. Part of me wishes that I could just leave it all behind. But I’ve tried, and every time I do it’s like I can hear the ice calling out to me. Like we have unfinished business. I don’t know, I probably sound like a freak.”

“No,” Dan says, “no, not at all. That’s how I feel about writing.”

“You’re a writer?” Phil’s eyebrows shoot up.

Dan laughs, bringing a hand up to run his fingers through his hair. “Uh, yeah. Not a very good one, but yeah.”

Phil frowns. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Tell that to every publisher I’ve sent my manuscript to in the past two years.”

Phil’s frown deepens, his eyebrows scrunching together in a way that’s both endearing and maddeningly practiced. “Well fuck them. You’ll get it published. I know you will.”

Dan sighs, ruffling his hair again. “Thanks. Really, thank you.” Part of him is afraid that his earnestness makes him sound like a bit of a loon, but mostly he just feels relieved. He’s forgotten how it feels to sit down and have a conversation with someone who actually listens to what he’s saying.

“You will,” Phil says softly before clearing his throat. “Anyway, I, uh, I just wanted to say that I wasn’t trying to like. Insult you earlier today. You’re a decent skater and you skate with confidence, which is half the battle sometimes. There are just some techniques that could help you skate a little more smoothly if you’d learned via a trainer.” He scratches his head. “I could teach you sometime, if you want. And your niece, too. What’s her name again?”

“Maggie,” Dan answers automatically. He pauses for a beat, letting a smile spread slowly across his face. “So you could teach me some _techniques_ , huh?”

Phil blinks. “Aaaaand he’s back.” Shaking his head, he stands up from the desk chair and tests out his knee. It seems to be holding up from what Dan can see. “C’mon,” Phil says with a sigh, the small smile tugging at his lips betraying his apparent annoyance. “Let me buy you a drink. I did technically forfeit after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> something tells me i'm not done with these two yet, so stay tuned! thanks for reading :)  
> [give this some love on tumblr](https://thereisnobearonthisisland.tumblr.com/post/181714294034/tell-me-somethin-new)


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